


The Duty of Sons

by Xair



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Father-Son Relationship, Guilt, Heavy Angst, fading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-17
Updated: 2018-06-17
Packaged: 2019-05-24 10:47:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14953208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xair/pseuds/Xair
Summary: Thranduil was fading out of grief. It was not the loss of a father which had brought him down, or the loss of a wife, nor the loss his people, but the loss of his son.He was slain by the very words of the person he held dearest.





	The Duty of Sons

**Author's Note:**

> Some of this fic kinda implies suicide and depression. So if you are sensitive to that subject please do not read this.

I do not own Lord of the Rings or the Hobbit. I do not have the brain capacity for that.

 

Enjoy =)

 

\----------

 

Ages had passed, people had lived, people had died. Mighty kingdoms had fallen, battles had waged, dragons had destroyed.

 

The great Elvenking Thranduil, last king of Elves upon Ennor, had seen much. He had escaped raids, fought wars and battled dragons.

 

The death of his father had not claimed him. The death of his wife had not claimed him. Thousands of his people’s deaths had not claimed him. With each loss, a piece of his fea had withered and shrunk, but still, he endured.

 

As he stood here now, he found nothing. He was empty.

 

The darkness had consumed much of his Greenwood. And it continued to do so with every passing day.

 

He had felt it within him. The darkness. He was connected to the forest and all its inhabitants, the bond was strong, he could feel their pain.

 

He lay against the rough bark of the tree branch as he frowned sadly to himself.

 

His leaf had gone to pave his own way in the vast world, away from the claustrophobic protection of his father.

 

Thranduil supposed all of this was very much his own doing. He had caused his own misery.

 

\----------

 

“Aran nin, a messenger of Imladris has arrived bearing an urgent summons from Lord Elrond.”

 

\----------

 

“I forbid it.”

 

Thranduil’s cool demeanor only succeeded in further angering the prince. Contrary to popular beliefs, Legolas did, in fact, inherit more from his father than met the eye, this included the king’s infamous temper.

 

“There are people dying out there! And more people die every day! We need to do something about it, they need our help! We cannot sit back and do nothing, we are a part of this-”

 

“Enough!”

 

Any protests Legolas had suddenly became lodged in his throat at the look of icy fury in the king’s eyes.

 

“We cannot spare any ambassadors, nor guards for the trip. Our hands are tied here, our people come first.”

 

Thranduil turned to the healer beside his throne, dismissing his son with the wave of his hand. The red-hot ire resurfaced and the prince found himself going red in the face, though his words came out calmly.

 

“Then I will go myself.”

 

The statement caught Thranduil’s attention and his head whipped around, his eyes narrowing as if to say ‘you would not dare’.

 

“Legolas the patrols need you here. You cannot go, I will not allow it-”

 

His sentence was cut short as flaming words spewed from Legolas’ mouth.

 

“You do not care for anyone besides yourself! We sit here, locked away in a tomb while our allies fight our battles for us! You cannot have everyone swarm around you to protect you from this darkness. You are a coward! A coward that hides behind walls of stone and rich wine, but a coward nonetheless. You are no father of mine.”

 

Every blazing word died on his tongue as his son uttered those last words. They hit their mark.

 

The prince bowed, not as he normally would out of respect, but in obvious haste to get past formalities. The king sat in a shocked silence.

 

“My king.”

 

And with those departing words, he strode from the room, completely unaware of the pain being inflicted behind him.

 

He had not noticed that the healers rushing down the hallways past him, too engrossed in his anger.

 

He had not noticed the sickness the face of his adar.

 

\----------

 

Perhaps, Thranduil was indeed a coward, but he only did anything with one reason in mind, one purpose.

 

To ensure the safety of his child.

 

His ion

 

\----------

 

Legolas left in the night, the fury of his outburst still fresh in his veins. He was joined on the road by a company of the realms most skilled and experienced warriors.

 

He decided that his king must have given in to his rantings and furious words.

 

Legolas left in the night without the knowledge of his father’s suffering.

 

\----------

 

The words spewed from Legolas’ mouth like dragon fire. Within seconds the mighty King of Elves had been brought to his knees like so many had failed to do. Ironic how the cause of his agony had not been a blade, or an arrow, or an axe wielded but the worst of his foes. But words said to him by that which he held dearest.

 

But the torment inflicted upon him at the sound of two seemingly meaningless words was undeniable.

 

_“My king.”_

 

They were not the words filled with love and respect for the frigid monarch he knew as a father.

 

_“Adar.”_

 

It had always been adar.

\----------

 

Legolas went on to Imladris, sitting through feasts and formalities in a daze. The weight of his words was creeping up on him and the guilt was seeping in.

 

Thranduil began to violently cough and sputter frequently. And as he bought the cloth from his lips, the sight of vibrant splotches of red were undeniable. The sickness worsened with every passing hour.

 

\----------

 

As Legolas battled orcs and slaughtered foul creatures, the memory of his father still plagued his mind. He was completely unaware of the evil within his home.

 

Thranduil had been reduced to bed rest by the healers, after a particularly bad coughing fit. His mind still struggled to comprehend the news.

 

_“My King Thranduil, you are fading,”_

 

\----------

 

Grief had overcome the king, so much so, that after his acceptance of the news, his fading was hardly surprising. He no longer felt the pull to the forest and the earth. Nor the connection through his fea to his only heir and child.

 

He didn’t fight it, not this time around, he simply lay back as he let his sadness consume him. What more was there to live for anyway? His son had no need of him.

 

\----------

 

Legolas noticed as he sat beneath the trees of the Golden Wood, the Lady Galadriel had not spoken to him. She merely looked at him, gazing into his soul through the windows of his eyes, her stare unnerved him. He felt for the familiar bond, tethering his soul to his ada’s. It was instinct and in the moment all thoughts of their catastrophic argument left his mind.

 

He found he was empty. Only a void of blackness was left in the wake of his father’s soul bond.

 

“I cannot see him.”

 

She glanced at him with despairing eyes, before sweeping away.

 

Her riddles only served to bring panic into his mind.

 

\----------

 

Thranduil had decided. It was best. With an oppressing heart and a weary soul, he brought his quill to the paper, expressing his sorrows and apologies. Tears leaked from his eyes, staining the paper, he did not stop.

 

As he finished the last words of the letter, he folded it to seal it within a letter, placing it in the top of his desk drawer and locking it with the key around his neck, securing it safely.

 

A knock on the heavy oaken door resounded through the room. Galion entered without any words of approval from his friend.

 

“Thranduil-” He began, “-perhaps we should send out a messenger to inform Legolas of your current sta-”

 

He was cut short by the worrisome expression on the king's face.

 

“No. I cannot burden him with my welfare, he must keep his mind clear and focused if he is to survive the danger.”

 

\----------

 

The fellowship continued on their journey. The human man of Gondor had been lost along the way, the hobbits Frodo and Sam had split from the group and the remaining halflings, Merry and Pippin were taken by the enemy.

 

His dazed state had not lessened and he worried about his father no less than before. He continued his running through the rough terrain, his thoughts straying back to his kingdom.

 

Thranduil spent less time governing his kingdom, leaving that to his trusted friend and butler, Galion, as well as his advisors. Instead his time was spent among the trees and in the rivers. The feasts became more frequent as the bitter king melted away like the wax of a candle, leaving an almost carefree ellon in its wake. The grief remained,

 

Thranduil was a tangle of emotions. He would spend the nights weeping for his losses over the ages and the days with his people, a nearly happy smile on his face.

 

The burdens of kingly duties were removed from his shoulders one by one, leaving him to do as he wished.

 

The advisors did not question this, nor did the healers, or the guards. His people did not question him.

 

They did not question the fact that he did not want to be saved. Nor did they question the fact that the destruction of the king was brought about by the very same person he loved the most.

 

The king became more sickly with every passing day. He refused food as it would only serve to make him vomit. He refused treatment, as he had come to terms with his condition. Though none of this would stop his regular adventures out into the forest where the darkness had yet to reach, or into the halls of his people.

 

His closest friends and confidants saw it though. The aura of sadness, it followed him like a ghost. Otherwise, their king had very much become like the teenager he had been many ages ago.

 

Though they all saw it. Behind his eyes. In the way he laughed with the children, conversed with the ellith and drank with the ellyn.

This was their king saying farewell.

 

\----------

 

Many months had passed since the fellowship had set out on their adventure. The thought of his father no longer plagued his mind as constantly as it did before. He had learnt to push back the memories and the guilt, if anything had happened to his kingdom, a messenger would have been sent.

 

\----------

The remainder of the fellowship, Aragorn, Gimli and himself had been searching for the hobbits Merry and Pippin when they had come across Gandalf the White who had freed Theoden of Rohan from his mental prison. The battle of Helms Deep was a mighty one and many lives were lost in the defence of Theoden's people.

 

Many strange things had happened in relation to himself and his father. The trees of Fangorn Forest whispered to him of his home, rumours and stories passed on the wind. Great feasts had been held in this time of darkness, joy had seeped through the walls of the elven fortress known as the Woodland Realm. The trees also sensed a hidden undercurrent of great sadness.

 

This worried Legolas. Haldir had told him that no attempts at communication had been made between his kingdom and the other elven settlement when he had asked for news. No one had left Mirkwood and no one had entered.

 

This had only proved to greatly confuse Legolas, though his stress and worry never ceased.

 

\----------

 

Thranduil had never felt more exhausted in his life. Years upon years seemed to weigh him down sinking him to the bottom of a raging river.

 

His energy had almost depleted, he rested a more substantial amount of bodyweight against his intricately crafted wooden staff.

 

Recently the king had turned to bed rest. Reviewing memories of his time alive. Many were of great sadness and brought back the haunting regret. Lives had been spent at his instruction.

 

His memories only drove him further into sickness. Soon he had gone comatose. He did not wake for months.

 

To those around him, it seemed as though the king was waiting. For what, they did not know.

 

\----------

 

Legolas had brought down great enemies, raised armies alongside his brothers in arms and overcome great evil. Still, something did not feel right.

 

\----------

 

Thranduil was not conscious when his warriors descended upon Dol Guldur, nor when his most trusted friend relinquished the knowledge of their king’s state to the ears of the Lord Celeborn.

 

A messenger was sent to Imladris.

 

\----------

 

The battles had been won and the enemy defeated. Though there was something in the air, something wrong.

 

The coronation of Aragorn had been a great celebration. Aragorn would make a great king.

 

Legolas was approached late in the evening after the festivities had finished for the night by the lord of the last homely house.

 

“My lord,”

 

Legolas turned to bow as he came to realise the lord was standing beside him. Elrond waved his hand dismissively a good-natured expression on his face.

 

“There is no need for that Legolas, it is too late in the night, I am too drunk for formalities.”

 

The lord rested his arms against the railing overlooking the great city, a sort of sadness possessing his features.

 

“I love my children. There is nothing I would not do for them. This world is a dark one and in the eyes of a parent everything holds danger. Your father would not speak it aloud, but know that he does his best to protect you from all that he has seen.”

 

The Lord paused to study the curious face of Legolas before he continued.

 

“Although his methods are questionable, he does his best.”

 

Legolas took this as his chance to speak

 

“If my father had his way we would be entombed inside that stronghold, with no light, nor air, no room to move. While our friends and allies crumble away outside our walls. He wishes only to protect himself.”

 

“Legolas, have you thought that perhaps it is not himself he cages away from the world, but you.”

 

Legolas stood in silent contemplation, shock gracing his features.

 

“Tell me Thranduilion, at what age did you have your first hunt? Or your first patrol? When was the first time you left the Greenwood?”

 

The Lord stood in silence as Legolas came to a horrible realisation. Elrond uttered his departing words before turning and striding away with his hands folded behind his back. The words rang through his head.

 

“Return home with haste.”

 

\----------

 

A single look at Aragorn said everything. ‘Go’.

 

Legolas left immediately, in the late hours of the evening and the very early hours of the morning.

He did not stop once, nor did he alter his course.

 

\----------

 

The king had awakened after months of unconsciousness, but there was something different about him. Before the sickness had not been as recognisable, like he was simply feeling under the weather. But now as any who looked upon him noted the lifelessness.

 

He was a living corpse, his face had thinned down, as had his body. His hair hung limply around his shoulders, his arms bony, legs shaky.

 

But his body was not the object which had scared them the most, no. It was his eyes.   There was no hope in them, they had surrendered. They were desolate. Empty. Grief-stricken. Heartbroken.

 

He took the key from around his neck and placed it on his desk. Pulling a cloak from a nearby chair he fled the room, locating a branch staff to lean his weight against as he hobbled to the exit of the kingdom.

 

No one stood in his way.

 

\----------

 

Legolas came swiftly, through the gates into the stables on his horse, dismounting his beast before it had halted. He wasted no time. He rushed through the twisting and winding halls of his home, searching. Hoping,

 

He did not bother knocking at the sight of his father’s door.

 

The room was dark. The curtains had been drawn tightly shut and the furniture was in disarray.

 

Though the room was not what caught his attention. A single silver key of interwoven branches lay on the desk.

 

The desk had not been used recently, a layer of dust had descended upon it.

 

This key, this was the one his ada never removed from his neck except to open the drawer to which it belonged.

 

Curiously he lifted the key from its place on the wooden desk, it was warm.

 

Sliding the key into place, he twisted it and pulled it open.

 

There was a collection of things, though they were all his. The first arrow he had ever loosed, Legolas remembered that one because miraculously he had run split the thing in two.

 

Countless letters addressed to his adar, two silver rings, a delicate one of leaves and flowers and a thick one of woven branches.

 

Obviously, none of them had been handled in a long time. All save for one. A letter, with his name scrawled neatly on the cover, in his father’s cursive.

 

\----------

 

_Legolas, my son._

_I wish I had said many things to you. I have left so many things unfinished._

_Do you remember those archery lessons you took as a child? I remember being so proud of you. You had turned to look at me with such a wide grin on your face I thought that perhaps you would break. I know I did not look it. But I was proud, I am proud._

 

_I am sorry I was so hard on you, so much so that you became convinced I felt nothing towards you._

 

_I am sorry I did not care for you as a father should, that I was so strict, that I was so cold. I  am sorry I kept you trapped here until you had to force your way out._

 

_When you were a young elfling I always had one question in my head. It kept me awake for many nights. What had I done to deserve such unconditional love from someone son pure?_

_When I was young I was as most young males were. I was reckless, rebellious, destructive. I caused much trouble for my father. Then he was killed in battle and I had no choice but to become king of a broken people._

 

_I have not done much good in my life, I have lost much. But when you were born I could not believe it. A creature such as I could not create such pure life. Your mother and I were in a complete state of awe. You were as shaky as a newborn fawn. Then your mother was gone and I was lost without her. I know that is no excuse for my actions. I should never have neglected to care for you._

 

_I learnt an important lesson from you. The love of a son is unconditional, as is the love of a father._

 

_I know you must be getting tired of my meaningless words on a paper. But I hope you know that I do love you, I do not say it, I do not show it. But I love you._

 

_My son, I hope you understand my reasons, even if you do not forgive me. I hope that you know that no matter what words were passed between us that you are my son._

 

The last words echoed through his mind at the paper slipped from his hands.

 

“He is gone.” Galion had entered the room silently while Legolas had been reading the letter. He was out the door before the last word had left Galion’s mouth.

 

_I hope that one day you can find it inside you somewhere to forgive me for all the misery I have caused you._

 

_I hope you know that my condition is no fault of yours, my time has come and you have no need of a ghost._

 

_But this realm needs a new king. A better king. A stronger king. Take care of our people ion. You will guide them into a new age._

 

_I leave our home in your capable hands._

 

_\- Ada_

_\----------_

 

Legolas had never run faster in his life. He ran, he yelled, he screamed, he cried. A glimpse of white fur halted him in his tracks.

 

An elk. His adar’s elk.

 

They whizzed through the forest together.

 

The new information whipped around in his head as he clung to the coarse fur of the animal.

 

_“Elves can be slain, or die from grief and wariness.”_

 

_“You are a coward! A coward that hides behind walls of stone and rich wine, but a coward nonetheless. You are no father of mine.”_

 

_“My king.”_

 

_Grief_

 

_He found he was empty. Only a void of blackness was left in the wake of his father’s soul bond._

 

_“I cannot see him.”_

 

_“Return home with haste,”_

 

_“You have no need of a ghost.”_

 

_“I am sorry.”_

 

_Fading_

 

 

Thranduil was fading out of grief. It was not the loss of a father which had brought him down, or the loss of a wife, nor the loss his people, but the loss of his son.

He was slain by the very words of the person he held dearest.

 

It was Legolas who had driven the arrow into his father’s heart, he had twisted it and turned it, then pulled it from the bloody wound, leaving his father to suffer alone.

 

Legolas cursed himself as tears streamed down his face.

 

**_This day was always coming, it got closer and closer with every passing second. As it is the duty of sons…._ **

 

\---------

 

Thranduil sank to his knees in the meadow. So this is what death feels like, he thought. The darkness encompassing him was warm and inviting, it was not claustrophobic or suffocating. It was comforting and almost sad.

 

Legolas broke through the treeline.

 

Thranduil did not see the familiar blonde hair of his precious child.

 

Nor did he hear the hoarse cries.

 

Or the footsteps.

 

He did not feel his leaf lift him into his arms as he collapsed to the ground.

 

The pounding heartbeat and the cries of his child were deaf to his ears. Only when he felt salty tears against his cheeks, did he finally see.

 

He lifted his weary arm from the plush softness of the ground and brought his cold hand to the face of his child, wiping away the tears.

 

His father’s face was creased with joy, his sickly features alight with relief. His greenleaf was alive and well and standing before him. The Greenwood would survive.

 

“ _Laegolas nin, goheno nin.”_

 

A single breath. Four words whispered on the wind.

 

Thranduil’s hand hit the ground.

 

**_….To bury their father’s_ **

 

\----------

 

**3706 words**

 

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**Author's Note:**

> Ada = dad  
> Adar = father  
> Aran nin = my king  
> Imladris = Rivendell  
> Laegolas = Greenleaf (Quenya)  
> Ennor = Middle Earth  
> Goheno nin = Forgive me  
> Ion nin = my son


End file.
